


Kill The Beast

by ForeverDelighted



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, For Halloween, Hevie - Freeform, No Isle of the lost, Werewolves, possibly dark in the future - I'm in a dark writing mood, wolf - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-07-28 09:43:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16239065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverDelighted/pseuds/ForeverDelighted
Summary: We're not safe until he's dead. He'll come stalking us at night. Said to sacrifice our children to his monstrous appetite. He'll wreck havoc on village if we let him wander free...The Mob Song - Beauty and The Beast





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry Thumper...

Death had been his destiny, of that Harry was certain. His father had always believed it, so had his sisters and his uncle Smee. An auld fortune teller had sworn it on the day of his birth, that after his eighteenth year, he would meet Death. 

And meet him he did.

It came as a surprise, even though he knew it was coming. He had always thought he would meet the Reaper upon the tides as all pirates and sailors should, but instead, the meeting came upon land on a bitingly cold Halloween's night. 

He had made a mistake, gotten carried away in his merriment at a tavern and lost track of time. He should have known better. He  _did_ know better! He knew the repercussions of being out at night, his father had hammered it into his head for years. He was a fool, a complete and utter fool! He hadn't noticed the sky darkening nor the sun setting, sealing his doom like a seal on a death certificate. 

He could still hear the screams of the patrons at the tavern ringing in his ears as his true identity had been revealed. The accursed light of the full moon had penetrated the ceiling windows and fallen upon him, sizzling his flesh and sprouting thick, black fur all over his body. It had been his pained cry that brought all eyes on him. There had been a stunned silence as everyone looked on with morbid fascination as the gruesome change took place. They had watched how he crumpled to the floor with an agonised roar, his body contorting and twisting, ripping his clothes to shreds as he shifted from human to the monster that he truly was.    

He heard them whisper the words that had plagued his family for decades.  _Monster... beast... demon... werewolf._  Even through the pain of the change their words made him seeth, bringing out his natural craving for blood and destruction. He wanted to tear them all apart with his teeth and claws and show them what a monster really was. He wanted to paint the tavern red with their blood, to watch as the life dwindled from their eyes.  

Despite it only taking a few moments, it felt like he had been shifting for hours, the pain so great and tolling on his body. When he opened his once blue eyes that now shone a sickly amber colour, he saw the horror on the human's faces. It was only when he growled, his fur bristling and pointed ears bending back that they were snapped out of their shock. 

Everyone flinched and shrieked, stumbling over each other as they tried to get as far away from him as possible. Some had fled from the tavern, others hid under tables or behind the bar, while more pressed themselves up against the walls, shielding their loved ones with their trembling bodies. Those who considered themselves courageous picked up their knives, guns, swords and bows, crying out for the beast to be killed. 

Harry wanted to kill them all, but even he knew when he was outnumbered. He was also still too weak from the transformation - it took werewolves a few hours for the aches in their bones and flesh to heal. He snarled, spittle-spewing through his fangs before he charged through the fools blocking the door, ripping one's arm off and slashing at another torrso, causing four streaks of blood to seep through the man's shirt. Harry ran as fast as his four legs would carry him, straight into the dark forest with a shouting mob hot at his heels. 

He should have been able to escape them, he had the advantage of darkness. But once again the moon betrayed him, lighting the shadows with its pale glow for the humans to navigate the forest with mild difficulty, further eased when they lit up their torches. They chased him relentlessly. His aching body barely allowed him to keep ahead. He swore he would get revenge against them for this, that he would wreak havoc on this village for their treatment of him. 

A flaming arrow whizzed through the air, singing the fur on his tail. Harry growled, leaping over a fallen log and changing his direction, trying to lose them in the maze of trees. He could hear their thundering footsteps and battle cries following him everywhere, no matter where he turned. His legs were beginning to tire, his body heating up and causing him to pant heavily. This was bad, very bad. He was losing hope that he would be able to outrun them, they were too persistent and he was rapidly losing speed. 

Another arrow lit up the darkness, piercing his shoulder. He howled in pain, his legs failing him. He tumbled to the ground, twisting his front right leg in an unnatural way, causing pain to shoot up the limb. He had barely pushed himself up onto to his paws as bullets rained down on him, some skinning him but none achieving a direct hit. Harry limped further into the forest, pain shooting through every inch of his body. He could feel himself growing dizzier and dizzier from blood loss and pain. He wasn't going to make it-

More arrows zipped past him, slicing at his back and neck. He lost his balance and fell to the ground, tumbling down a steep incline. He lay at the bottom, panting and losing consciousness. He could see the shadowy silhouettes of the mob at the top of the small hill, their torches casting dancing shadows across the trees. Dread knotted his stomach as he waited for them to find him, to plunge their swords into his bruised and beaten body and take his head to decorate the walls around their fireplaces. He didn't want that, he _didn't_ want that! But he was in so much pain that a part of him whispered that ending his life would be a small mercy on their part, even if it wasn't intended that way. They were humans, and they felt no compassion for his kind. 

He couldn't believe it when the mob didn't spot him and continued marching on, chanting for his blood. He listened to their songs of murder drifting off into the distance until even his keen hearing could no longer pick it up. They were gone. He was safe. He was-

The air became colder, a chill racing down his spine. Harry sensed him before he saw him, a dark, foreboding presence lingering over him. Slowly, painfully, Harry shifted around. Death stood before him, a dark spectre shrouded in smokey robes the colour of pitch and ash, a gleaming scythe in his bony clutches. Even the trees and the winds quietened down respectfully in the presence of the powerful figure. For so many years Harry had been assured that he would meet Death shortly after he turned eighteen years old. He had never wanted to believe it, and yet here he was, a truly frightful creature that seemed to change the very air around him, filling it with a cold, bitter iciness. 

The hooded figure was silent, merely watching him patiently. Harry knew what he was waiting for and his heart plummeted in despair. No, no he was not ready to die. Not like this. His mind raced with all the things he still had to do, all the adventures that were out there waiting for him, the revenge he still had yet to claim. Death may be an awfully big adventure, but it was not one he wanted, not yet. His thoughts drifted to his family, all the things he wanted to say to them. What he wouldn't give to hold his sisters one last time. 

A slim shadow fell over Harry's form. Harry whimpered, trying to scuffle away as the Reaper raised his scythe above the wolf and-

"Hey there, Wolfie."

Harry's eyes snapped open at the sound of the soft voice. He paused, waiting a moment more for the blow but still it never came. Cautiously, his entire body tensing, he lifted his head. Death still stood a foot away, his scythe raised in the air, but he did not move. It was as if some magic had paused him. Death then did the unthinkable, he moved aside. Harry blinked, his mouth dropping open slightly. What surprised him, even more, was what had been standing behind Death.

For a moment he was blinded by shock and disbelief of what he was seeing. It was so unexcepted that it took him a moment to puzzle it out. 

It was a girl. A very pretty girl with dark blue hair that tumbled over her shoulders, reminding him of the waves on the sea on windy days. Her eyes were dark, framed with long, thick lashes coated with a skilful flick of mascara and eyeliner. Under her cloak, she wore a fancy blue gown, far too rich for her too not be of some upper-class family. Harry had never met a princess, but he imagined that this was what they must look like, all frills, rich fabrics, beauty and softness. The girl was a striking sight in the shadowy forest, the pale moonlight softening her features and making her snowy skin glow. She was vibrant and bright in the dark landscape of the forest, almost like a vision of Life itself. She didn't seem to notice Death standing a few feet away, his scythe glinting in the starlight. Humans could not often see much of the supernatural, not those of the spirit realms, the Unseen Ones. 

"Don't be afraid," the girl whispered, and Harry wasn't sure if she was speaking to him or herself. "I'm not going to hurt you. I want to help."

She raised her hands in a soothing manner, trying to show him that she meant no harm. Harry eyed her warily, watching as one of her hands slid under her cloak and pulled out a small vial filled with a glistening purple liquid, like a mini nebula trapped in glass. Harry couldn't help but growl as she stepped closer and crouched before him. 

"Easy, boy. Easy." Her voice was soft and gentle, and Harry wondered if that was what angels sounded like. Perhaps she was an angel, surely only an angel of mercy could still Death's hand?

He let of a whimper as a wrong twitch of his paw caused pain to shoot through his limbs. Death took a step closer, fear causing him to snarl at the figure. At his pained cry, the hesitant look on the girl's face disappeared, replaced with one of determination. She took a deep breath and moved forward, gently but firmly grasping his jaw. 

On instinct he lashed out, trying to bite her. He didn't know who she was or what she was doing here but humans trying to get close never ended well. He was a monster. All humans wanted him dead. He didn't trust her. He wanted her gone. He hadn't been able to tear apart any of the other humans at the tavern for their sins against his kind but this lone, defenceless and unarmed girl was easy pickings, even in his wounded and weakened state. Her blood would have to do to sate his bloodlust.

But the girl proved undaunted by his aggressive snarls and snaps of his teeth. She lunged forward, trapping his head under her arm while her body pushed against him, pinning him down. She cried out in panic as he thrashed in her grasp, trying to escape her.

"Listen to me, you need to drink this, it will help you!" the girl stressed each of her words, startled gasps leaving her lips with every jerk of his body. "Oh, I wish you could understand me! I'm trying to help you!"

Harry was too far gone to listen, pain and panic clouding his senses. His thoughts were consumed with killing her, to have the feel of her flesh between his teeth and blood dripping down his jaw, coating his fur. He refused to die by her hand. He would end her first! The girl refused to let go of him and even dared to pry his mouth open with her fingers, careful of his teeth. She shoved the vial into his mouth then clamped his jaw shut. 

"Sorry about this... but a bloody mouth is... better... than being dead," the girl gritted out, struggling to keep his snout and jaw clamped together. 

Without meaning to Harry crushed the vial in his mouth, shards of glass shredded his gums and tongue. He shook his head violently, oily tears streaming from his eyes and seeping into his fur. He wanted to spit out the glass and howl in pain. The girl would pay for this. He was going to tare her heart out with his teeth! He cringed when he felt whatever liquid had been in the vial slide down his throat, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. It was like acid, searing and vile. 

"Come on, Wolfie. Calm down!"

Harry felt his body become heavy, his eyesight blur and his thoughts turn even hazier and less chaotic and panicked. It was like he was falling asleep. Was this what death felt like? He didn't feel any pain from his injuries now, everything felt numb. He titled his head, his eyes drifting from the girl to over her shoulder. Just before his eyes closed he realised something. Death was no longer there. 

He had met Death and survived. 

* * *

Harry awoke slowly, his eyelids fluttering open. He was still in his wolf form and in the forest, right where he had fallen unconscious. It took a while for his memories to catch up to him. He remembered the tavern, the mob and Death ready to strike him down. Yet here he was, still alive. But how? His thoughts halted when he realized someone was stroking his head. For a moment he was bewildered, almost indignant. He was a werewolf, a ferocious creature that made giants of man cry out in terror. He wasn't some lap dog that could be pet!

He strained to look over his shoulder, a snarl curling his lips when he saw her. It was the girl with midnight blue hair who had stilled Death. The girl brave enough to take on a werewolf on her own with no weapons. The girl who had shoved a strange vial in his mouth. And most absurd of all her wonders, she was the girl who dared to pet a werewolf! 

He looked at her in amazement, watching as she absentmindedly stroked his fur. She hadn't noticed he was awake, she was lost in her thoughts, her eyes trained on a fire she must have made while he was out cold. Why light a fire? Why rest his head on her lap? He tried to move, confused and restless with the events of the night. It was then he noticed that his body wasn't in pain. He could move his front right leg and shoulder with ease, as though his leg hadn't been broken and an arrow plunged into his shoulder blade. 

"Oh! You're awake!" 

Harry glanced back at the girl. 

"Alright, Wolfie, take it easy okay? The potions still working its magic. You'll be a bit weak for a few more hours," the girl explained. 

Harry realised that the potion must have been what was in the vial, that was why she had wanted him to take it and that was why he had survived. She had saved him, risked being seriously injured or killed by him to do so. The urge to rip her apart subdued, replaced by a tentative curiosity. Why would a human save a wolf from Death? He was a monster in her eyes, an enemy who lurked in the forest ready to prey on her kind. What could possibly drive her to show compassion for him? 

"Hungry?" 

Harry tilted his head at her and had he been able to he would have quirked an eyebrow. Even though he was in his wolf form, the gesture seemed enough to convey the unspoken question. The girl gave him a bland, unimpressed look in return. 

"To clarify, I'm  _not_ on the menu." 

Which was a shame because he suspected she would be quite delectable. The upper-class usually were, they were better feed than the commoners. Not that he had any intention of eating her, not now. 

"I have some rabbit that I caught earlier today, you can have some."

Harry scrunched his brow in puzzlement, watching as the girl went about prepping and cooking the rabbit. She seemed to know what she was doing, though she was uncomfortable doing so. Perhaps he was wrong in his assessment that she was upper class. If she was surely she wouldn't know how to catch and cook her own meals, nor would she need to? But why then, was she dressed so well? She could be a theif. Or maybe she highly skilled dressmaker. 

"Here you go, Wolfie," the girl mumbled, placing a charred slice of rabbit leg in front of him. "Enjoy."

Harry lowered his head and sniffed the piece of meat before pulling back in disdain. He hoped it tasted better than it smelt and looked. 

"So do you like it?" the girl asked, looking at him from across the fire.

Harry spluttered and choked before spitting out the hunk of meat. It tasted repugnant and he cast a heated glare the girl's way to make his opinions on her culinary skills clear. It was always possible that this girl was a particularly twisted human who liked to kill his kind with poisoned food. He was surprised Death hadn't materialised again to claim his soul after he had tasted that atrocity she dared to present as food. 

"It isn't that bad!"

She had the cheek to sound offended. 

The girl took a forceful bite out of her piece of cooked meat, the rabbit's ear, and stared him down as she chewed on it. If she was trying to make a point she failed miserably. She seriously overestimated her cooking abilities. Harry smirked, as much as a wolf could, at the sight of the colour in her cheeks draining. She spat out the meat then hurriedly ran her tongue over her hand, trying to rid it of the disgusting taste. 

"Ew. Alright, that's not my best dish." 

The girl pouted, pushing the rest of the cooked rabbit away from her. Harry snorted in amusement, earning him a scowl from his sulking companion. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the crackle of the fire and rustling of trees. It was only when the girl started shivering that Harry succumbed to a rare display of pity. 

With a growl he clumsily rose up on his legs, struggling to stay standing, The girl hadn't been lying when she said he was still weak. Now that he was moving he could feel the ghost of aches haunting his wounds, reminding him of the blows that nearly led to his demise. He wobbled over to her slowly, partially so he wouldn't frighten her away and because his weakened body gave him no choice. The girl didn't move, just watched him with an air of caution. He sensed that she was ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. He wished he had his voice, then he could tell her she needn't worry. He had no intention of killing her anymore, it would be poor form to do so after she had saved him and shared a meal with him - well, attempted to share a meal. 

He laid down beside her, resting his head on her lap, offering her what warmth he could. It was a silent thanks for her aid. Hesitantly, she began stroking his fur and despite his pride rebelling against it, Harry found he enjoyed the soft motions. Her caress was tender, like she was scared to apply to much pressure in case she hurt him. No one was ever this gentle with him, especially not a human. It was nice and calmed his restless spirit. He fell into an unfamiliar tranquillity, content to lie there and be petted while watching the flames. 

She began talking away to him, asking him how he got hurt so badly and if it was hunters. He wondered if she knew what he really was, if she knew he was a werewolf and could, therefore, understand her. Maybe she was just trying to fill the silence, humans never seemed to like keeping quiet for long, particularly when there was an animal they could be chattering pointlessly away to, even if they received no response. 

"Where's your pack, huh, Wolfie?" 

Harry tilted his head, letting out a sound akin to a purr when she scratched behind his ears. He had always been sensitive there. He heard her giggle and although it was a pleasant sound it made him grumble. She was enjoying this a little too much. He dearly hoped he wasn't growing soft after his near-death experience. Later on, he would put it all done to temporary insanity. 

"Did you lose them? Or did you run away too?" 

Harry perked up at her words, shuffling his head round to look at her over his shoulder. The friendliness was gone from her voice, now she sounded lost and small. If he had human arms he would have gathered her up in them and cradled her close to his chest. He didn't like that desolate look on her face, instead, he wanted to see what it would look like when she smiled. Would her face light up as bright as the moon, would she have dimples or crinkles at her eyes? He would wager his tail that she would look even more beautiful than she did now. 

"Maybe you're a runaway like me. Two lone wolves," the girl smiled sadly, moving her fingers to stroke his back. "But unlike me you'll get to stay free. Little old me will get dragged back kicking and screaming by the hair."

Harry didn't realise he had snarled until the girl had snatched back her hand, startled. He saw fear flash in her eyes. She must have thought she had hurt or annoyed him and was worried he was going to bite or lash out at her. He tried to soothe her worries by straining his head up and licking her cheek, gently nuzzling her jaw. She hesitated for a second before smiling softly and continuing her caressing, even more gently this time.

Harry swore to himself that he would find out who it was that was hunting the girl. He would make sure they suffered for harming her and causing her distress. Someone like her, who was compassionate and gentle, even to a monster like him, didn't deserve to suffer. He felt a surge of zealous protectiveness for the girl, this strange girl who had dared save a wolf. 

Humans hated wolves. They had hunted most to extinction, so deep was their fear of them. Wolves were the villains of the woods. Every human bairn was taught from the day they were born that wolves were horrors, demons that should be hated and hunted down. Humans opinions on werewolves were even more dismal. Werewolves were abominations, wretched beasts sent by the Devil himself to avenge their fallen siblings the wolves. Harry wasn't sure what the girl thought of werewolves, but she didn't seem to hate wolves. She was wisely cautious and alert, but he could not sense any scorn towards him.

"And you don't have to bother with any expectations set by your parents. No ones mapped out your life for you, you just get to live life as it comes."

That wasn't true. He had many expectations placed on him, as did his siblings. His father, when he indulged in too much alcohol, would often rant for hours about the high expectations he had for his children. He expected - nay, demanded - that they find a way to break the lycanthropy curse that had been placed on their family by an evil queen. Once free he wanted them to follow in his footsteps and become fearsome pirate captains, renowned around the world. 

Despite being pirates, their father was stringent when it came to education and manners. He wanted them well educated and there were always _unpleasant_ consquences when they fell behind in their lessons. No child of James Hook could be anything less than the best, they had a legendary name to live up to and Hook would make sure they would. Every day it was lesson after lesson, practice after practice. It was tedious and dire, and no matter how hard they tried they were never good enough. It was his father's consistent nagging and lecturing that drove Harry to take refuge on land so often. Even on nights when the moon would be full he would chance his luck and escape to land, just to find some blissful moments away from his overbearing father. 

He had more in common with this girl than she realised. Again, he found himself wishing for a voice, wanting to share his own misery, to show her she wasn't alone in how she felt. That she had a companion who could share in her wallows and understand them. 

"It's always Evie this and Evie that," she continued on, completely oblivious to his pledge and the connection he felt with her. 

Evie, that was her name. Harry felt his heart jump in delight at finally knowing it. She wasn't just the girl anymore. She wasn't a nameless stranger. She was Evie. Evie. He had a name to his rescuer, to his mysterious forest girl with blue hair and hazel eyes. 

"I'm too good, she says. Never bad enough."

Harry was certain she meant to say that the other way around. She must be tired, he figured. No doubt as tired as he. She continued talking away, her voice growing more and more distant to Harry's ears. He fell asleep to the lull of her voice, a voice that he felt that he could listen to for hours. When he awoke in the morning, just before the sun rose, she was gone. He might have believed her to be a dream had it not been for the cinder remnants of the fire or the cloak placed over his body to keep him warm. 

 _Where could she have gone?_ Harry pondered in alarm, rising to his paws. 

Harry found himself displeased at her abrupt departure. Her tender affections and had left him yearning for her touch and a part of him recoiled at the notion that he would never be able to feel her fingers running through his fur again. He wanted to know more about her, to unravel her mysteries. He wanted to show that they were kindred spirits, too souls battling against controlling parents who they could never please no matter how hard they tried. He wanted to protect her from those that dared harm her, to keep her tender heart safe from the world that did not deserve it. She was too good, too innocent and brave for the pathetic humans to have. 

He had to find her again. He had too. 

Harry nuzzled his snout into the expensive fabrics of her cloak, inhaling her scent. It reminded him of flower fields, sweet, earthy and fresh. He was loath to leave it behind, but he couldn't carry it in his current form and once he was human he wouldn't be able to track her. He raced off into the forest when he caught a whiff of her scent, desperation spurring him on. He had to find her. The sun was steadily rising and once its beams hit his skin he would revert back to his human form. 

_Where are you, Evie?_

He had just leapt over a small stream when the sun pierced his skin. Reverting back to human form was not as painful as changing into his world form. Instead, shifting to human was like a mask falling from his skin. All the fur fell from his body in a shimmer of black and he was human again. He rose to his feet, shaky after being on all fours for so long. He let out a curse, slamming his fist against a tree. Of course, he changed back when he needed his wolf form the most. Of course!

"-I'm not lying! I got lost!"

Harry jerked around at the sound of her voice. He quickly crept over to the tree line at the edge of the forest, noticing a small army of knights on horseback. Evie stood among them, two guards flanking her sides. She didn't look happy to be there, and the knights did not look happy to have found her. 

"The queen has been greatly worried-"

Evie scoffed. "I'm sure she has."

"And it would be in your best interest if you come with us without a fight this time, your Highness," one of the knights - an older man with a thick moustache and greying hair - continued sternly. His voice softened a little, pity appearing in his mossy green eyes. "Unless you're eager for a repeat of last time."

Whatever happened last time could not have been anything good with the way Evie flinched. She nodded quietly, allowing the guards at her side to escort her by the arms into the carriage in the centre of the squad of knights. Harry had to force himself to stay where he was, knowing there was not anything he could do at the moment. 

"Don't worry, Evie. I'll get you back."

And Harry Hook never broke his promises. 


	2. The Other Wolves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "We don't like...what we don't...understand in fact it scares us...and this monster is mysterious at least." - The Mob Song - Beauty and The Beast.

No one dared leave their house after dark.

The day Evie had run away from the village something terrible had happened. There were rumours that a beast had attacked defenceless patrons at the local tavern, leaving one man dead and another critically injured. Evie wasn't sure if she believed the tales, the locals who frequented the tavern often concocted whimsical stories, and if it wasn't alcohol fueling their imaginations then it was boredom, as seldom anything excited happened in their quiet village, every day like the one before. Most of the villagers ignored the usual blether of the tavern, but for some reason, this time, they listened.

People were afraid, there was no denying it. There was a thick, foreboding tension clinging to the air of the village. Even the animals- their horses, dogs, cats, cows and chickens -seemed to pick up on it, making them jittery. The people and animals of the village were wound up tighter than violin strings and it felt that at any moment the strings would snap under the tension. It was so unusual that Evie felt herself being pulled into a strange sense of caution herself. Usually, the village was alive with vibrant chatter and songs each morning and early afternoon, everyone bustling about in their chores and trade. Not now, not since the alleged attacks. Now everyone kept to themselves, watched their neighbours warily and barely a word was uttered outside.

It wasn't until one of her mother's guards told her that the beast that had said to have attacked the tavern had been a werewolf that she understood the villager's reactions. Werewolves were human as much as they were wolves. Anyone, from their neighbours to their shopkeepers, could be one, and they would be none the wiser. The monster that had harmed their fellow villagers could be walking among them, as bold as brass, waiting to strike again. 

Mournfully, Evie watched from her bedroom window, hating seeing the villagers treat each other with such caution, such mistrust. There was so much suspicion and scorn in every gaze it made Evie's heart swell in disappointment. 

"Has what happened at the tavern been investigated?" Evie asked her head guard, Sir Pellinore, as he came to stand beside her. 

He was an older man, nearing his late sixties. Unlike the other guards -- who dressed in light armour - he was dressed far more casually, but no less richly for a man of his stature. He wore a thick, green poet shirt with a black, buttoned vest, black trousers and heavy boots. His thinning hair had turned as white as starlight and was combed back neatly. Evie had known him all her life, he was almost like a father to her. He doted on her but no amount of smiles and sweet words - nor royal titles - could sway him from scolding her when needed. He was still a little sour over her latest escape attempt and refused to let her leave her cottage as punishment. So long as she behaved for a time he promised he would forget to mention the incident to her mother - provided she didn't attempt it again. 

"It has indeed. Witnesses say it was a werewolf."

"So I heard," Evie replied dryly, narrowing her eyes as she glanced at the forest at the edge of the village. "But that can't be what happened, can it? Werewolves? Really, Sir Pellinore?"

"You don't believe they exist, Princess?" the old knight inquired.

"No, I don't." 

"Tis a bit strange hearing that coming from a lass who dwells in potions and alchemy in her spare time when she thinks her guards aren't watching," Pellinore mused, stroking his grey moustache. "If witchcraft exists, why can't werewolves?"

"That isn't witchcraft," Evie muttered, offended. "It's science. Don't say such things so carelessly. If a villager heard you say I performed witchcraft they'd lynch me!" 

"They are quite the superstitious bunch, aren't they?" Sir Pellinore chuckled, but his face quickly became dark. "But I'll tell you now they have every right to be. There are all manners of strange creatures and forces in this world, and they may be far closer to you than you think."

Evie shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. She didn't like talks of magic and make-beleive creatures, she heard enough of it all from her mother. 

"I don't suppose you could leave me alone for a while? I think I'd like to get some rest."

"Depends, are you going to flee again?" Sir Pellinore asked, quirking an eyebrow. "I quite like having my head attached to my shoulders and if your mother finds out you tried to run away again-"

Evie shook her head, giving him a sincere smile. "I'll be right here where you left me. I just need some time to myself. All this talk of werewolves and magic is... unsettling."

The knight nodded before leaving her, locking the door securely after him. Evie frowned at the sound of the bolts clanking into place, sealing her in. She heard the old knight tell a few of his underlings to stand watch and make sure no one entered either. It seems he was taking no chances this time.

Evie let out a miserable sigh, resting her head back against the window frame. She pulled her legs up onto the ledge and wrapped her arms around them, starring out at the shifting clouds. 

Freedom has been so close, just at the edges of her fingertips. If it hadn't been for that wolf, she could have gotten to her meeting point with the baker's son who had promised her safe transportation out of the Kingdom. 

Evie shook her head, scolding the thought. She knew she shouldn't think like that, helping the wolf had been the right thing to do. The poor creature had been in such pain. But thoughts of freedom from the bars that held her made her a little bitter. She was never going to get away, the guards were far too alert now. And one more failed attempt would mean Sir Pellinore would inform her mother of her runaway attempts. The thought of what her mother would do to her made her shiver. 

Someday she was going to be taken back to the castle across the way, and then, she would truly know what no freedom meant. 

* * *

"Harry, what are you doing here?" 

Harry cursed at the sound of his sister's voice. She had followed him, again. He was sure he had lost her in the forest but as usual, he had underestimated his sister's persistence. 

"What dae ya want, Harriet? Thought pa told ye tae stop molly-coddling me?" Harry asked tiredly as he crossed his arms and leaned back against a tree. "Don't think he'll be tae happy tae hear yer still disobeying him. And a direct order at that? Oh dear."

"Oh, ye think he won't be happy about with me? Just wait tae he hears what ye've up tae!" Harriet snarled, her hands tightening into fists. "I know why ye've been sneaking off the ship more and more lately, and I'm pretty sure papa will be interested in hearing that yer risking yer safety - and the families! - all for a pretty face!"

"I've nae idea what yer talking about," Harry shrugged, feigning innocence. 

"Ye came tae see that girl again! That Evie!" Harriet scoffed angrily. "Harry! This whole town is in an uproar because of ye! Ye can't risk coming back here, what if someone recognises ye from the tavern?"

"Naeones gonna recognise me," Harry rolled his eyes. "Yer being dramatic."

"I'm being sensible and smart! It isn't just yer heed I'm worried about. If they find out what ye are it won't take much for them tae figure out - or at least suspect - the rest of our family of being werewolves as well! Yer putting us all at risk just tae catch a glimpse of a fleeting fancy!"

"It's not a fleeting fancy!" 

Not wanting to lash out at his sister Harry took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. He knew she was trying to protect him, as she always did, but Gods, he wished she would leave him be and stop being so over-protective. He knew what he was doing, he didn't need her constantly hovering around him. 

"She saved ma life. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her. I'm just... looking out for her. That's all."

"If she really saved yer life then dae ye think she'd be happy tae hear yer risking it for nae good reason?" Harriet challenged. 

She didn't believe her brother at all about his objections that he didn't care for the girl. She had noticed him sneaking out of the ship more and more and after following him one night she had found out why. It was for the girl, the girl locked away in the pretty, white cottage by the fountain in the town square. Harry would come to the edges of the forest and watch out for her, trying to catch even a glimpse of her. He never approached her, not that he could as she never seemed to be alone. She wasn't sure who the girl was but Harriet had rightfully deduced that the girl was someone of importance. Why else would she have a disguised, armed escort everywhere she went? 

Sooner or later the eagle-eyed and seasoned guards would notice Harry and start to question him, perhaps even investigate him in secret. And if that didn't happen then Harry may slip up like he did last time and get caught in the moons snare. 

"Then again, maybe when she finds out what ye are she'll be more than happy for ye tae risk it," Harriet said snidely, eyes flashing darkly. "Dae ye think she'd ever care for a beast? Naeone does, Harry! And ye need tae get that through yer thick skull, fast!"

Harriet knew she was being cruel but she had to do what she could to save her baby brother. The idiot didn't see what danger he was putting himself - and their family - in, but she could. She was the oldest sister, it was her job to look after her younger siblings. Even if they hated her for it.   

Harry let out a growl, pushing himself away from the tree. He stormed over to his sister, pointing a finger in her face. "Drop it, Harriet, and mind yer own damned business for once!"

Harriet shook her head, her face contorting in livid rage. "Evie's the reason ye've convinced pa not tae leave this port, isn't it? Ye don't wat tae be away from her. Harry, she doesn't even know ye exist. We need tae leave here. This whole village is on a crusade against our kind, we can't risk being here any longer." 

"Then leave without me," Harry gritted out. 

He didn't mean it, not truly. Anger was just too good at filling you with the desire to lash out, tempting you into saying the things you knew would hurt the most. And there was nothing that would hurt Harriet more than the thought that her brother did not want to be with her, with their family. 

Harriet flinched as if he had slapped her, her eyes widening in shock. She looked at Harry, hurt shining in her eyes. 

"Harry-"

"Enough, Harriet. Get back tae the ship and leave me be."

Harry turned on his heels and left Harriet standing amidst the trees with nothing to do but watch his retreating form. In Harriet's eyes, all she saw was her little brother - a boy she had once held in her arms as a bairn - foolishly walking towards Death's grasp. She knew she could not let that happen. Even if it meant she had to cut the tie that tethered him to this place. 

Big sister's always looked out for their younger siblings, no matter what. 

* * *

As the weeks dragged on, the tension in the village did not fade away. It grew. The calmness and quiet was still there, but it was nothing more than a facade for the hysteria bubbling within the villagers. Sometimes the tension became too much and heated arguments and fights broke out, only fueling the resentment and suspicion the villagers felt for one another. 

It was not long before fingers were pointed, neighbour accusing neighbour of being werewolves. Every day the guards stationed at the village would receive 'intel' about who was supposedly a monster in disguise. Evie heard about it all from Sir Pellinmore, the old knight at a loss of what to do. 

Strangely enough, Evie's mother, the Queen, had done little to weed out the alleged werewolf living in the village. Her mother was a firm believer in the supernatural and had on many occasions sent guards to hunt down all manners of mythical creatures to ease her people's fears. Her mother's lack of action only further sowed doubt into Evie's mind that there was any real plausibility to the werewolf hysteria that had gripped the village. 

Still, even with her own reservations about the matter, Evie decided enough was enough. She had to do something to help. She may not their Queen but she was their Princess, and it was her duty to help her people to the best of her abilities. The creature they feared may not be real but their fear was and it had to be eased and taken seriously. 

One quiet night, Evie wrote up a letter for the town mayor, detailing what measures could be taken to help sooth the villager's worries. She gave it to a trusted knight who delivered it in secret. It took far longer than Evie would have liked for the measures to be implemented, as she had wait for the mayor's written reply. It would have been quicker to walk down the street and converse with the mayor personally, but he was not aware of her true identity. No one was. The fact that their princess lived among them was unknown to the villagers. It was a secret, one her mother had insisted upon, though why she did not know. 

After a few weeks, Evie and the mayor finally came to an agreement. A sunset curfew was installed on nights of the full moon and more guards were sent to patrol the village at night. Evie wanted to do more but her powers were limited and she lacked the experience on how to properly deal with the matter. She needed her mother's council but her mother neglected to offer her help. 

Despite the lengths taken to ensure the security of the village, many were discontent. Some felt that the creature that had attacked the tavern, along with any others that may be hiding amongst them, should be sought out and vanquished. 

Finally, only a day before the moon would be full again, the villagers took matters into their own hands. They burned down the local butchers, the butcher and his family still inside. Evie had seen the flickering flames from her bedroom window, even through the thick, black smoke that hung over the town, darkening it. 

That night Sir Pellinmore and her three guards came home, pale-faced and deathly quiet. It was the final straw for the night. The horrors of that night prompting him to do something he had never done. Challenge the Queen. 

"Sir Pellinmore, surely you can't be serious?" Evie asked the knight as he readied to leave the cottage. "My mother's not going to take kindly to you telling her she hasn't handled this situation well!"

She would kill him, this Evie knew without a doubt. Her mother loathed to be questioned and did not take it lightly. Sir Pellinmore's decades of loyal service meant nothing to the Queen. 

"I have to do something, my dear girl. I swore an oath," the old knight said quietly as he put on his cloak. "I have a plan that may help the village. The only one who can implement it, without question, is the Queen. If she agrees it'll happen immediately and end this wretched werewolf business."

"What is your plan?" 

"I want all the villagers rounded up when the next full moon rises. Under the light of the moon, we'll find out once and for all who the werewolf is," Sir Pellinmore sighed.  "Then they can all see for themselves that they're all nothing but human. Horrible humans who have let an innocent family perish for nothing more than paranoia."

Evie walked the knight outside the cottage, watching as he mounted his horse, several guards following after him. "Stay in your room, your Highness. I've left two guards with you so you'll be safe and to prevent any escape attempts you've been concocting."

Evie rolled her eyes at the knight's chiding tone. She bid the knight fair well, praying she would see him again. 

That night Evie couldn't sleep, her dreams haunted by smoke and fire and screaming villagers. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the smiling, friendly faces of the villagers she had come to know morph into twisted expressions of hate and fury. She saw them standing in a hollering mob, torches and pitchforks raised into the air as they marched through the village, lighting everything ablaze. 

The same thing happened the next night and unable to get to sleep, Evie decided to head downstairs to the kitchen. There was a small heap of clothes that needed to be sewed and the activity had always helped calm Evie's nerves. She may even modify them a little, as the guard's uniforms sorely needed some improvements. 

The moment Evie went downstairs she knew something was wrong. There was a thick, metallic smell in the air, something that tugged at her memory. If she didn't know any better, she would have sworn it smelt like blood. Cautiously, Evie tiptoed into the kitchen where the smell was thickest. 

The kitchen door slammed shut behind her, causing her to jump. Evie tried to open the door but it wouldn't budge, like someone was holding it shut from the other side. 

"Hey!" Evie shouted, hating how her voice pitched in fear. "Open the door! This isn't funny!"

The mild fear Evie felt about being stuck in a dark, candlelit room was nothing compared to the fear she felt when she heard the warning growl behind her. Evie spun around, her heart jumping into her throat when she noticed that she was not alone. 

There was a wolf in the kitchen with her. 

Evie stared at the creature, momentarily stunned. Much of its body was cloaked in darkness, only the light from the flickering candles dotted about the room allowing her to see any of it. It's once beautiful white fur was stained red with blood and its mossy coloured eyes glowed brightly with bloodlust, it's lips curled back into a snarl that bared fearsome fangs dripping with saliva and blood. It took a step forward and let out a terrifying growl. 

"Guards," Evie whispered, taking a step back before calling out more loudly. "Guards! I need help! There's a wolf in here!"

No one came and Evie felt her stomach churn, unable to stop her herself from linking the blood on the wolf with the absence of her guards. 

Frantically, Evie's eyes darted around the kitchen, looking for any means of escape or weapons for protection. Her eyes landed on a knife on the countertop. The wolf, sensing her plan, let out a vicious bark before lunging forward, its claws scratching against the wooden floor. 

Evie screamed and darted out of the way. The wolf crashed into the door, snarling and snapping its jaw as it tried to get back to up onto its paws. Evie tried to grab the knife but her fingers knocked it off the counter, sending it clattering to the floor. She had no time to retrieve it and instead and ran to the door at the other end of the room. If she could get there she could go through the living room, into the corridor and get upstairs. There she could get back to her room and lock herself away and call for help from her window.  

Only it didn't happen like that. There was another wolf waiting for her on the staircase. It was a bit smaller than the other one and had hazel fur and light blue eyes. It growled at her before bounding into the air, claws extended to rip flesh. Evie barely managed to get out of the way, having to throw herself to the floor before scrambling to her feet for the front door. 

She heard the wolf's paws banging against the floor and the next moment Evie screamed, hot pain searing through her back. The wolf had leapt up onto her back, its claws tearing down her flesh, down her back and upper thighs. 

Panicked, Evie grabbed the nearest thing, an old broomstick that was always by the door, and used it to thwack the wolf across the face. The wolf fell to the floor with a whimper before shaking its head and getting back up again. It gave Evie just enough time to grab the door handle and slip out, bolting the door shut behind her. 

Tears streaming down her face, Evie limped away as fast as her aching body allowed her. She had to get to a neighbours house, it was the only safe place. She called out for help as loud as she could but the pain caused her voice to croak and crack pitifully. No one would be able to hear her and no one was out this late to stumble across her, not with the curfew in place. 

Evie didn't get far before the pain overwhelmed her and she dropped to her knees, shrieking in agony. She could feel the blood running down her back, seeping into her clothes. It stung and ached and she was almost sick from the pain. 

The door to her cottage burst open and Evie turned around, her terror tightening around her heart at the sight of the two wolves creeping towards her. The loss of blood was starting to make her vision blur at the edges and her head was getting lighter and lighter. The energy sapped from her hands and she collapsed completely to the ground, grit and stones digging into her bruised body. Evie could only lie there, watching as the wolves got closer and closer. 

"Stay away," Evie whispered, her voice cracking. "Please."

The white wolf stepped in front of the other wolf and lowered its front legs, ready to pounce. Evie let out a sob, hoping someone would come to her aid. She didn't want to die. Not like this. 

Evie's heart jolted as an ear-piercing howl ripped through the air. A shadow swooped over her and there was a loud thud as something landed in front of her.

It was a black wolf. 

The white wolf barked out a warning to the new wolf, no longer looking ready to pounce. The black wolf bared its fangs, its ears bent back and fur bristling with fury. 

Evie tried to keep her eyes open but she was so tired and the sleep was bringing with it a wave of numbness that took the pain away. It was too tempting to resist and her eyes fluttered closed. 

Clouds rolled over the full moon, hiding it from view. No longer were there three wolves, instead, three siblings stood face to face. Harry and Harriet glared at each other while CJ stood a few paces behind, looking unsure and confused by her brother's behaviour. 

"Harriet! CJ! Get the hell away from here!" 

"How about ye make me, little brother!" Harriet hissed.

Harry shook his head. He turned away and knelt beside Evie, his fingers hovering over the bloody rips in the back of her dress. One of his sister's - God's help whichever one of them it was - had hurt, Evie. And badly by the looks of it. Carefully, Harry picked her up in his arms, wincing when she whimpered as his hands skimmed her injuries. He hushed her, offering soothing promises that it would be okay, that he would take care of her. 

 "Put her down, Harry! She's not worth it!" Harriet said heatedly, unable to shout as she wanted to in case the villagers looked out there windows, draw by the commotion. 

"What in Davy Jones name are ye playing at, Harriet?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes at his sister. "What did ye think ye could accomplish by attacking an innocent lass?"

"This is for yer own good! Ye won't leave cause she's here? Then we'll just take her out of the equation."  

"And ye think I'd let ye?" Harry asked, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Yer no that stupid."

"Harry, please," CJ's whispered. Harry glanced over Harriet's shoulder to look at his younger sister, uneased to hear the usually loud girl so quiet, so unsure. It wasn't right and it pained his heart. "We need tae leave. This place isn't safe."

"I'm not leaving without her."

CJ looked away, disappointed and Harriet scowled, her eyes ablaze with rage. It was not the answer they had wanted.

"Listen here and listen well," Harry said lowly, the ferocity in his words and eyes causing his CJ - who was unused to having her brother's anger aimed at her - to take a step back in alarm. "If any of ye's touch Evie again I'll rip yer hearts out with ma teeth."

Harry turned his back on his sisters and disappeared into the forest, Evie secure and safe in his arms. 

* * *

Harry watched Evie as she slept. His heart ached as she visibly struggled against whatever nightmare plagued her mind. Every toss and turn of her body aggravated her freshly tended to wounds, causing her to flinch and whimper. Eventually, Harry had laid down beside her on the pillow and blankets he had set up in his secret hideout - a small cavern by the ocean - and gently pulled her into his arms, preventing her from thrashing in her sleep. 

As he held her a surge of protectiveness overwhelmed him.

He was furious at his sister's for hurting her. He should have seen Harriet's plot a mile away. She was far too protective of him for her own good and always felt she knew best. She had been right in her assessment that Evie was the reason he refused to part with this land. But it was more than a fleeting crush.

Evie had intrigued him, the mysterious girl who risked her safety to protect a wolf, a creature the world had taught her to fear and loathe. The plights she had recounted to him had resounded with his own and it had inspired a desire to help her, to protect her from those that wished her harm or caused her grief. The last few weeks he had watched her in the marketplace - she was never alone, always guarded - and the more he saw of her the more drawn to her he felt. She was kind, always giving to those less fortunate than herself, offering to pay for her fellow villager's groceries, and more than happy to assist anyone when they needed it. She was friendly and sweet and it was clear that everyone who interacted with her enjoyed her company.

With seeing such goodness it came as a surprise - though a pleasant one - when Harry noticed she wasn't completely an angel as she let on. The girl had mischief in her blood. It had taken a while for Harry to realize it but when he did his adoration for the girl only deepened. She had a rather mean fondness for playing pranks and tricks on the villagers and no one seemed to have twigged that she was the one responsible. 

On one occasion the village had been bewildered to find the bakers bread for that day was all blue, the baker dumbstruck and clueless to Evie having slipped a potion into his dough batch when she had gone there to pick up some pastries. Another time she had slipped something into a particularly cheeky lads drink and the next day the boy was sporting bright green hair. Harry had also overheard a couple talking about an incident a few years back where all the farm animals had burped bubbles to the alarm of the farmer and Harry suspected Evie may have had a role to play in the story. 

His brave little witch was quite the trouble-maker and clever enough to get away with it. 

Harry pulled the sleeping girl tighter against his chest, one hand reaching up to push her hair behind her ear. 

He didn't care what his sister thought. Evie wasn't just a pretty face that had caught his attention. She was more than that. He owned this girl of mischief and sweetness his life. If it hadn't been for her the prophecy that had haunted him since birth would have played out very differently. He would protect her. Always. And no one, not the villagers, not his sister, not anyone, would stop him. 

Outside the cavern, the sun began to rise. 

**Author's Note:**

> I know I have other stories to work on but my muse just... this happened. I'm sorry ;A; I'm weak and it's almost Halloween. Fellow fanfic writers will understand. Fanfics readers, on the other hand, may curse me. 
> 
> My new policy is this is a one-shot unless my muse strikes again, that was I don't disappoint anyone. I've got some vague ideas on how to continue this though, using The Mob Song lyrics as inspiration for each chapter but we'll see how that goes. I wanna make this a three-shot, but no promises. 
> 
> Also, you gotta listen to this cover of the song because omg it's perfect! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KMSmRNVwmD0


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